


Bitter Remembrance

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Carthak, Family, Father and Son, Gen, Loyalty, Memory, Mother and Son, Politics, Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 13:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: As Kaddar deals with the first rebellion of his reign, he looks to his mother and the memory of his father for guidance.





	Bitter Remembrance

Bitter Remembrance 

After his first military triumph—the smaller victories that preceded it seemed laughably minor in comparison to the scale of this almost incomprehensibly large success—Kaddar should have felt elated and confident of the path he should pursue. Instead he felt wearied to the bone as if he had marched a thousand leagues and baffled by what to do with the nobles who had surrendered to him along with their shattered armies. 

This was the first uprising that he had managed to crush, and there were more revolts against his rule flaring throughout the Carthak inspired no doubt by the perceived weakness of his youth and the rather tangential nature of his claim through his mother instead of a male lineage. He had to project strength—any crack of vulnerability would only encourage the legions massed against him—while not appearing so brutal the nonaligned might be spurred into rebellion. 

Pinching his forehead that pounded like a war drum in his too-hot tent, Kaddar wished for the thousandth time since he had commenced this campaign against his own treacherous nobles that his father were still alive to dispense advice rather than killed suppressing an uprising when Kaddar was barely old enough to train with weapons. As if the yearning for his late father had summoned it, a memory, overwhelming in its bittersweetness, tore through him like a sandstorm. It was of the evening before his father rode off to battle for the final time, and one of the last memories Kaddar had of his father…

(“Must you go to war, Father?” Kaddar asked as he helped pack his father’s uniforms, wind stirring his short hair through the curtained door that led onto a broad balcony overlooking their lands. 

“Of course I must go to war, Kaddar.” Father’s tone sounded more as if he were trying to be patient about an apparently foolish question Kaddar had posed than as if he were feeling truly patient with Kaddar’s boundless curiosity. “There’s a rebellion for me to put down.” 

“Yes, Father.” Kaddar attempted to nod as if that explained everything though it still clarified so little that he was compelled to press, “Why must you put down the rebellion?” 

“What should be done to a son who defies his father, Kaddar?” Father arched an eyebrow, and Kaddar winced at the gesture that often accompanied a severe admonishment. 

“He should be thrashed until his resistance is broken, Father.” Kaddar bit his lip until he tasted the iron tang of blood. Staring at the swirling pattern of plants on the carpet beneath him, he worried his questioning might have again lapsed from curiosity into impertinence without him noticing, and his father would punish his unwitting insolence with strong smacks of the rod that would leave him welts and bruises to remember his father by long after he had disappeared to war. 

“Why should he be thrashed, son?” Father’s fingers were firm as they tugged Kaddar’s chin up until their dark eyes met, Father’s stern and Kaddar’s cowed. 

“There can’t be peace and order in a household with a rebellious son.” Kaddar dutifully recited a mantra he had been made to memorize soon after he could talk. 

“Well-answered.” Gruffly approving, Father ruffled Kaddar’s hair, and Kaddar stifled a sigh of relief that he wasn’t about to feel the sting of his father’s rod lancing into his backside and thighs. “An empire is a large household with many members, Kaddar, and every subject can be considered a child of the emperor. Those who revolt against the emperor must be crushed into submission the same way a defiant son must be thrashed into obedience.” 

“I see, Father.” Kaddar cocked his head, considering the idea that an empire was a household with millions of children and an emperor to serve as a father. “Must every revolt be crushed? Can’t some people be allowed to be free if that’s all they want? Wouldn’t that just be like a father disowning a rebellious son instead of thrashing him?” 

“The empire”—the frown in Father’s forehead was reflected in his mouth—“permits its subjects a remarkable degree of social, cultural, and religious liberty in provinces and tribes. Any freedom not found within the emperor’s laws is likely to be the freedom to do wicked things such as murder and robbery without repercussion. That isn’t freedom but anarchy and must be resisted at all costs, Kaddar.” ) 

Drifting out of the river of his memory, Kaddar massaged his throbbing temples. His father had made the matter of destroying rebellion sound so straightforward but Kaddar still found a part of him balking at the notion of such brutality especially of he was the one commanding it. Some ruthlessness, he had already learned, was necessary to rule an empire but too much turned an emperor into a tyrant terrible as his uncle, and Kaddar was determined never to follow his uncle’s footsteps down the path of oppression. There had to be a middle ground of abiding by his father’s advice without emulating his uncle’s tyranny, and he must discover it alone. 

As if the thought that he was alone had called her to him, his mother, who had quelled his insistence that she remain in the capital rather than accompany him to the front with a haughty remark about no war elephant being able to prevent her from watching over her only son, appeared in the flap of his tent. 

“Honored Mother.” He waved her inside and noted inwardly that he would never adjust to not having to bow before her because the emperor bowed before nobody—even his revered mother. “Come in. I was just reflecting on how Father would have dealt with these surrendering rebels.” 

“What conclusions did you draw?” Mother arranged her skirts delicately about her ankles as she settled into a pile of pillows across from Kaddar. 

“Father would’ve crushed the rebels after they surrendered. He would’ve advocated that I kill the rebellious nobles and their families.” Kaddar shrugged grimly. “It just seems too simple to assume that cutting off heads would be the end of the rebellion rather than an act of tyranny that might spark more revolt amongst my skittish nobles who are so distrustful of imperial rule after our last emperor’s reign of madness.” 

“Your father”—Mother’s slight smile was tinged with sorrow for her beloved, long lost husband—“was a mighty, fearless warrior, but he was never as adept in the political sphere as he was in warfare.” 

“Isn’t this rebellion a matter of warfare?” Kaddar’s forehead knotted. 

“Not at all.” Mother rapped his knuckles gently with her own to emphasize her next words. “It’s a matter of politics as most things from the battlefield to the bedroom are in reality.” 

“I know you’re right, Mother, though I wish you weren’t.” Kaddar emitted a groan that was as close to despairing as he would permit himself to come. “I’m afraid I’m as clumsy with politics as my father before me.” 

“Tell me how you plan on handling these capitulating nobles and I’ll tell you how politically clumsy you are when you’re finished, my boy.” Mother selected a date from a bowl on the low table beside her as she awaited Kaddar’s explanation. 

“If I were too merciful to the surrendering nobles, it would be viewed as a weakness that would invite more rebellion.” Kaddar contemplated his plight as he spoke. “Yet if I were too harsh with the families of those who resisted my rule, I might be regarded as a tyrant who must be resisted lest I follow in my uncle’s shoes. On a balance, I think I must behead the nobles who took up arms against me but allow their families to keep the lands and titles that would customarily be forfeit in exchange for valuable hostages to their loyalty who’ll live at my court in a state befitting their exalted rank. As for the common soldiers, I would offer them the opportunity to swear their fealty to me and serve me or to forsake the army forever and hand over all their weapons to my legions.” 

“Merciful to the common folk caught up in the struggles of their superiors and to the families of the rebels as long they don’t dare break faith with you.” Mother provided her assessment of his strategy between dainty nibbles of date, a fruit it sometimes seemed only she could eat without dribbling juice down her chin and clothes. “Clemency with an undercurrent of steel to discourage treachery. I approve, my dear son, and begin to hope you’ve inherited some of my political savvy.” 

“Not at all, Mother.” Kaddar smirked. “I merely learned from your interminable, inexhaustible lectures on the subject.” 

“Ungrateful offspring.” Mother shook her head reproachfully though Kaddar could see a ghost of a grin on her features. “It appears my next interminable, inexhaustible lectures must be on the respect a son owes his beloved mother.”


End file.
